


there's no light where you are

by apatternedfever



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark!James, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 11:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apatternedfever/pseuds/apatternedfever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James is putting up a good fight, but the darkness threatens to consume him, despite Teddy's struggle to save him and his own struggle to be saved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	there's no light where you are

**Author's Note:**

> Old fic, originally posted under a different title on LJ, but otherwise the same.

Until he is seventeen, James Sirius Potter is an arrogant, immature little prat who doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut and relies on his wand to keep him out of trouble. Sure, he's also loyal and brave and he can be surprisingly gentle at times, and god knows he's got a good mind for spells, but it doesn't change how prominent his faults are. It doesn't change when he turns seventeen -- no magic breakthrough on his birthday, no waking up that morning with a sudden realization. It takes nearly half a year for his revelation to come.

It comes down to a class, and that alone is enough to make him laugh. Or it would be, if it wasn't such an important change. It comes down to History of Magic -- a class he hates, a class he only stayed with for NEWTs because his mind trapped dates and names as well as his mother's, and he knew he'd pass without as much stress as his other classes would cause. He'd never expected a new teacher. He'd never expected they'd be studying anything as recent as the past century. But there it is in the new textbook, inescapable in black ink: Grindelwald and Voldemort, Dumbledore and (of course) his father. 

It doesn't show until they start on the Second War. Everyone assumes it's learning about what his father did, about the legacy he has to live up to, that finally sobered him. Everyone but Teddy, at least.

But then, Teddy was worrying about him from the start of that year. James knew the letters he sent were what did it -- that they probably frightened Ted, who was used to his not-quite-brother recounting tales of mischief and madness from the Hogwarts walls, of boring lessons and pretty girls, how Rose led Ravenclaw to win the Quidditch Cup again and how Lily was on a quest to win the House Cup for Slytherin. And yet he didn't stop, and the letters got longer and more intense, if anything. He couldn't trust anyone else with these thoughts. Only Teddy. And so Teddy got them all, and he wrote back with pointless tales about how boring his job at Flourish and Blott's was, how the family was doing, how he couldn't wait for James to visit that Christmas. James tried to take the hint, to keep his letters normal and light, but it was no good. A week would pass, two, and he'd find himself alone in the common room well past midnight, signing yet another letter that he knew he shouldn't send. 

The worst one gets sent just months before he leaves Hogwarts, barely a week before he turns eighteen. _Magic and muggle alike, they all have a vision, don't they? That's what they never mention. That the people we come to think of as villains, and the most fanatical of their followers -- they all think they're doing it for the best. They tell us all the awful things they do, but they never mention that in their minds, it's all going to be worth it when the world is perfect under their rule._

He spends a long time after writing that one staring into the fire, thinking about his own words, before he finally goes to bed.

He dreams of dark wizards. Of Grindelwald, who carved for the greater good above his prison; of Voldemort, who no one understood the motives of but so many purebloods once believe had the right idea; and of a dark wizard of the future, with hauntingly familiar brown eyes and a long hawthorn wand, who whispers "it's all for the best" in James' voice. It jerks him awake, twisted in his bedsheets and breathing hard, clutching his wand tightly as blue and red sparks sputter out of its' tip, the polished hawthorn wood beneath his fingers making things worse instead of better for the first time James could remember. 

_Just a nightmare_ , he tells himself firmly, but it comes back the next night, and again, nearly every night for a month before James is studying so hard for his exams that there's no room in his brain for dreaming when he finally falls asleep. 

He moves in with Teddy after Hogwarts, at Teddy's insistence. He pulls out all the excuses he can for the family: he's tired of living alone, he can keep an eye on James for them, he could use the help keeping things tidy (despite all his faults, James has always been neat). The truth is that James has got him worried sick, and as much as Teddy tries to hide it, they both know it's the real reason. James doesn't mind so much, though. Maybe because he knows he needs someone to watch him. 

And anyway, he's always loved Teddy. When he was younger, he hero-worshiped him, but the time for heroes is gone. They're equals now, even if James is six years younger. What's six years when you live to be a hundred and sixty, anyway? 

James is quieter now than he has been since he started talking, something Teddy tries to make a joke out of, at first. When that doesn't work, he starts talking more -- maybe to fill the silence, maybe to try and lure out the mischievous kid he used to know. Either way, it's a nearly absurd role reversal, and one that doesn't work no matter what the aim was. The moments between words just feel emptier than ever before, and the little boy in James is long gone. Sometimes he thinks it died, that he killed it himself, with his dreams and his letters and the thoughts he can't keep away. 

After a while, Teddy goes back to being quiet. It's better for both of them. The silence is much more comfortable than the pointless words had been. They make up for the talking they don't do by getting physically closer -- a hand on a shoulder in passing, James' head in Teddy's lap when they sit together on the couch, a hug that lingers a little longer than it used to. 

James crawls into Teddy's bed one night after a particularly bad nightmare. He doesn't say anything, just wraps an arm around James' waist as he shakes, and he presses his back against Teddy's chest, putting a hand over his own mouth to muffle the sobs. Teddy doesn't say it's alright, he doesn't tell him not to cry, just holds him until he falls asleep again, his arms tight and protective. 

Teddy climbs into James' bed the next night, and although neither sleeps restfully, both of them waiting, no nightmares come. After that, they share a bed nightly. They don't discuss the arrangement. There's no need to.

It takes a year in the same bed for Teddy to kiss him. It's after one of his nightmares, which are rare now, but still happen on occasion. James is shaking, and crying, and his face is buried in Teddy's chest as if that can erase the image of himself alongside the worst enemies of the Wizarding world. Teddy whispers to him, using words of comfort for the first time since they moved in together -- "it's alright, Jamie" -- and then Teddy is kissing him more sweetly than he's ever been kissed before, and James thinks for a fleeting moment that he might be right before he stops thinking. 

Teddy never tells him it's alright again. He simply kisses him when James thinks he can't handle the world, or that he's going slowly insane with the dreams and his thoughts. Teddy seems to think he's found the answer, that this is what will fix everything he's ever worried about. 

James knows it's not that simple, but he curls up with Teddy and listens to his heartbeat and pretends that he is fine.

_This isn't going to stop it, you know. No matter how much you hold me, it'll never really leave. I'm not like you. I'm not good. Being with me isn't going to help, it's just going to make you a marked man when I can't hold it in anymore...._

He doesn't say it. Instead, he lifts his head from Teddy's chest and kisses him, because when Teddy's kissing him, it's like a light as bright as the sun, and for a few moments James can pretend the darkness isn't there, hovering around the edges, waiting patiently for him to break. 

Eventually, they have to pull apart, and the darkness comes back, the reverse of a cloud passing over the sun. But he has those times, even if sometimes it's barely a moment, where he believes that he can do this, that he can triumph over himself. 

It isn't much, but it's better than nothing at all.


End file.
